


A Secret Garden

by Kicker



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Feles Ex Machina, Fluff, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7104151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kicker/pseuds/Kicker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elder Maxson discovers that Knight Ravenwood has been modifying her power armor in an unexpected way.</p><p>His reaction is somewhat unexpected, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Secret Garden

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lil something I threw together for [GamerAmelli](http://gameramelli.tumblr.com/)'s OC [Julianna](http://gameramelli.tumblr.com/MyFO4OC). 
> 
> (NB: best read in at least a slight Scottish accent.)
> 
> Ooh and here's a wee pic by [prydwencats](https://prydwencats.tumblr.com), inspired by part of this fic:
> 
>   
> go mash like/reblog [ on the post](http://kickerwrites.tumblr.com/post/147480655540/prydwencats-ive-been-sick-tonight-but-wanted) because it's amazing!
> 
> how cute is that? :D

Julianna stood in engineering and wrinkled her nose. Yet another mission down in the Commonwealth, yet another location to clear out of beasts that probably hadn’t always been beasts.

Yet another day in power armor.

Danse had said that she should go and get in her suit, so there she was. She wasn't exactly sure why he thought it was necessary, it didn't seem like the mission was anything out of the ordinary. But if the Paladin thought it was the right thing to do, then it probably was.

She took a deep breath of fresh-ish air, and pulled herself into the suit. It didn't smell too badly any more. She'd spent a good amount of time scrubbing it down, inside and out. The grease still stank like a wet goat, true, but at least the remaining traces of the former owner had faded.

He must have been a  _ right _ grubby one.

Inside, she flexed her hands and tested her footing. She didn't get so claustrophobic in the suit any more, not like she had to begin with. At least she had some control over where her little walking tin can went, unlike those horrible vertibirds. Danse kept telling her that her fear of them was irrational but she'd seen enough of them plough straight into the ground to be quite comfortable in her very rational fear,  _ thank you very much _ , Paladin.

She headed down toward Proctor Quinlan's office. Danse had already taken the briefing, but he wouldn't have thought to ask if there was anything a civilian might be interested in. He was very much an in-and-out, no dallying type of fellow, which was all well and good and efficient, but didn't leave much room for exploration. Or conversation, for that matter.

Quinlan was crouching in the corner, sifting through a box of bits and pieces that Julianna thought she recognized from a sweep done a few weeks ago. Emmett was sitting on the Proctor's desk, as usual, cleaning his little face with a tiny grey paw.

"Hello, Emmett," she said.

The cat always ignored her when she was in her armor. It was a bit disappointing, but he probably couldn't distinguish between the ranks painted on their arms, and the stench of the grease probably stopped him recognising her by smell. At least he wasn't scared of her, but she supposed he'd seen enough tin suits in his lifetime to stop that ever being the case.

"Ah, Knight," said Proctor Quinlan. "I've already given Paladin Danse the necessary instruction for the mission. However, I thought you might like to see this."

He was holding a pamphlet in his hands, and beckoning her over to read it.

Holding anything as delicate as a piece of paper was hard enough in power armor, let alone reading the tiny printed text through its scratched display. Julianna considered hopping out of her suit altogether, but then she'd have to angle it in the right way so she could get out without either being seen from the hallway or sticking her backside right in the Proctor's face. As much as the Brotherhood flight suit was safer and fire-resistant and all that crap, she didn't really like the way it hugged her... well... her everything. And with straps in all sorts of odd places, she was terrified of getting it caught on something and embarrassing herself.

So instead, she just took off her helmet, and put it on Quinlan's desk.

The pamphlet was a dusty old brochure for the location they were about to clear out. Mystic Pines, an old folks' home. It looked like a nice place, although of course it was the brochure and they weren't likely to say 'this place is rubbish, send us your granny, but only if you hate her.'

One of the pictures was a little old lady with a garishly-coloured plastic trowel, cooing over a bright green tomato plant. Julianna could almost smell it, fresh little fruits just yellowing, that smell of  _ green _ that was one of the things she probably missed the most from the old world.

If they did let the OAPs do some gardening, then maybe she'd be lucky, and find some seeds.

"Thank you, Proctor," she said, beaming. "This is great. I'll let you know if I find anything."

With the briefing complete, she went to collect her helmet. But while she'd been talking to the Proctor, Emmett had jumped into it and curled himself up into a tiny little ball. He looked so cute and so comfortable that she could hardly bear to move him. Besides, what would she do? Poke him with a giant metal finger? He'd never talk to her again.

She thought for a moment, considering her options. She didn't want to disturb the cat, but she couldn't leave the helmet behind. Danse would frown, and scold her, and send her right back inside to fetch it.

Danse. The Paladin who never wore  _ his _ helmet.

Well. He was hardly one to talk, was he?

She nodded to herself, her decision made. She wiggled her fingers in the air just above the cat, hoping that he felt and understood the message. She'd have to come back after the mission and give him some good ear rubs to make up for it. She smiled at the thought, and headed toward the flight deck. She grabbed hold of the ladder that led between the decks, but before she got her foot on it, an angry voice rang out.

"Knight," it said.

She blushed, automatically, because the voice belonged to the Elder.

_ Don't be daft _ , she thought.  _ He's not talking to you. There are plenty of other Knights on the ship, after all. Just because you can't see any, doesn't mean he can't. _

But the Elder rounded the ladder, and he was looking directly at her when he spoke again.

"Knight," he said, his tone sharp.

She blushed some more.

"D'you mean me?" she squeaked.

"Yes," he said. "I mean you. Where do you think you're going like that?"

Her cheek temperature went up a couple of degrees. Her heart flew into her mouth and tried to get in the way of her words. 

"Oh," she said. "I'm to head out to Mystic Pines with Paladin Danse for a sweep and there might be some seeds there that I thought I might collect but if that's not an appropriate use of time or if there's something else you'd like me to do I'll do it right away..."

The Elder held up his hand to quieten her. She took a deep breath and swallowed down the next words, which were probably going to be  _ sorry sorry sorry _ so that was probably a good thing.

"I meant," he said, "that your armor appears to be... incomplete."

"Oh," she said, and tried to look down at herself. Maybe she'd forgotten to put the arm plating back on after she'd fixed up the paintwork earlier. She could hardly even see it over her breastplate.

"Knight," said the Elder, impatiently. "Your helmet."

Her heart sank into the pit of embarrassment that had suddenly formed in her stomach.

"Oh," she said. "It's... I mean... I was talking to Proctor Quinlan... and... I must have... I'm sorry, Elder, I'll get it right now."

She backed away, shame buzzing in her ears, and went back to Quinlan's office.

Standing over Emmett, who was still curled up in her helmet, she felt a bit helpless. She could just pick it up and tip him out, cats always land on their feet after all, but that still seemed cruel when he was so comfortable.

Then the Elder appeared beside her again, and she nearly died.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Quite the predicament," he said.

She chanced a look at him. His lips were pressed tight, and his forehead was crumpled in a frown. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just..."

He scooped the cat out of the helmet with one hand. Emmett dangled there, letting out a tiny, indignant meow.

Then the Elder laughed, and Julianna nearly died again.

He dropped Emmett on the desk, giving the cat a quick rub behind the ears, and picked up her helmet. He held it out toward her.

Before she could take it from his hands, he pulled it back and frowned at it.

"What's this?" he asked.

Julianna's cheeks had just been recovering from the initial shock of the Elder's approach, but now they started to burn again. Because he was looking directly into the helmet.

Right at her little secret.

Ever since she'd been given that first set of T-60, she'd hated it. It was heavy. It was clumsy. It stank to high heaven. Then one day she'd been sat with a tin of enamel paint, retouching the Brotherhood logo on the breastplate. It was important to keep one's suit in good condition, Danse always said, and to ensure it reflected the Brotherhood ideals it represented. So she kept it clean, buffed out any scratches as soon as she could, and made sure the logo was always bright and crisp.

Nobody had ever said anything about the  _ inside _ .

She'd painted herself a couple of tiny little flowers, just inside the lining. Roses, her favourite. If she had to go to places that were dead, and barren, and lifeless, she may as well take a little something nice with her. One thing had led to another, and now she had practically a whole garden in there. Even though she couldn't see it when wearing it, it made her smile, to think of something like that inside the faceless metal suit. Such a contrast with the Brotherhood, hard and uncompromising as they were.

None of them as much as their Elder.

"I'm really sorry," she said, hurriedly. "I'll clean it up. I know the suit's Brotherhood property, I shouldn't have done it, I'm sorry."

"No," said the Elder. "I meant, what is this flower. I don't recognize it."

She didn't think she could possibly have blushed any more. Then her forehead seemed to be join in on the fun, burning like fire along with her cheeks. She must have been bright red. Purple, probably. If she could grab the helmet from him she could maybe put it on and hide herself, but he was staring so intently into it that she couldn't bring herself to interrupt.

"Roses," she said, her voice wavering. "They all are."

"But they're so different," he said.

"Yes," she said. "Those are tea roses, and those are English roses. Round the back there's some climbing ones and..." 

Her voice faded away. He was running his fingers over the painting.  _ Her _ painting. Not just that, but over the inside of  _ her _ helmet that would be right next to  _ her _ face in just a few minutes.

She felt faint.

"The Knight has quite the talent for botanical drawings," said Quinlan, from the corner. "Perhaps she'd like to show you, some time?"

Behind the Elder's back, she shook her head frantically. She knew she couldn't cope with that. Having him look at her journal would be as bad as seeing her naked.

And at that thought, she felt even more faint.

"After her mission is complete, of course," continued the Proctor.

The Elder gave her a curious look, just for a moment, then looked back down. "Perhaps," he said, and held out the helmet.

Julianna took it from him, hardly able to breathe.

The Elder nodded, just slightly, then turned on his heel and left the office.

Julianna was suddenly grateful for the support of the power armor. If nothing else, it was keeping her legs from collapsing under her.

Danse had been right, after all.

She looked at her secret garden, and smiled.


End file.
